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BISHOP mant's lines to a waterfowl. 
Th' ear-piercing clamour, loud and shrill ; 
The slender head, the awl-like bill, 
The pinions' pointed length of sail, 
The tapering form, the forked tail, 
The motions nimble, light, and free, 
That mark those ' swallows of the sea/ 
We cannot more fitly conclude this brief account of tlie 
Sea Birds than by quoting Bryant's 
STANZAS TO A WATERFOWL. 
Whither, midst falling dew, 
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 
Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue 
Thy solitary way ? 
Vainly the fowler's eye 
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong. 
As, darkly painted o]i the crimson sky, 
Thy figure floats along. 
Seek'st thou the plashy brink 
Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide. 
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink 
On the chafed ocean-side ? 
There is a Power, whose care 
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast^ — 
The desert and illimitable air. 
Lone wandering, but not lost. 
All day thy wings have fanned, 
At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere ; 
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, 
Though the dark night is near. 
And soon that toil shall end : 
Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, 
And scream among thy fellows ; reeds shall bend 
Soon o'er thy sheltered nest. 
Thou'rt gone — the abyss of heaven 
Hath swallowed up thy form : yet, on my heart, 
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, 
And shall not soon depart. 
He, who from zone to zone 
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 
In the long way that I must tread alone, 
Will lead my steps aright. 
